A Day in the Life of Hawkeye
by RandomFanatic
Summary: Things start getting explosive when Clint tries to find where his brother is today.   Literally.   Can these two brothers get over their differences, or will they be stuck in the same dangerous childhood rivalry forever?
1. Intro

I DO NOT OWN CLINT OR BERNARD OR BRUCE(hulk) OR TONY OR STEVE OR T'CHALLA OR THOR OR JAN OR HANK OR... (etc)  
>-although marvel does.<p>

Summary: Clint's having one of those days which seems to be stuck in the past. The Avenger's are called to ensure that a high profile mob boss doesn't escape from jail. When they show up at the prison... Hawkeye has a rude awakening when he discovers that the convict that they're guarding is someone who _used_ to be very close to him...

A/N: After nearly a year of no activity on this account... I've had a random spurt of... something... that made me want to post this on here. I'm sorry if any of you missed me... but I was kinda just drawing a blank.

So plz enjoy.

Comments are very welcome ;) 3

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><p>It was a rainy day in New York City as the Avengers crowded around the TV to watch the game. Baltimore was playing Chicago, and everyone was crowded around in the living room- save Hank and Clint. Hank was still shut up in his lab, laboring over this or that, so no one bothered to try to pry him away. Clint, on the other hand, was sitting by one of the many large windows in the mansion's lobby, his elbow on the sill of the window and his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He didn't know why, but today his mind simply refused to think about anything other than his life before S.H.I.E.L.D.<p>

Seriously, he was starting to creep himself out. His mind was force-feeding him images of the orphanage and the circus and his brother. He was internally telling his mind to knock it off. Last time his mind kept wandering like this happened to be the day Widow knocked on their front door, asking for their help.

It was also a rainy day then. He was considering the possibility that if he were to move back to the south, where rain like this was much scarcer, then perhaps these days would stop coming around.

He didn't mean to look so glum, but apparently one who was looking unseeingly out a window on a rainy day was prone to look glum whether or not it was their intention, so of course, Jan was bound to come by and ask him if he was okay. He shrugged her off and she let it go, leaving him to his reminiscing once again.

It was late by the time he realized he had fallen asleep in the chair by the window. He shook himself awake, and blearily looked out the window. He was tired but he didn't want to move. It felt as if he were bound to the spot, like it was physically impossible to move. Suddenly, the rain on the window seemed to form pictures. He rubbed his eyes, but they were still there.

One was of his mom, cheerfully sitting on some grass under a tree, a little Bernard sitting beside her, and an even littler Clint on her lap. He wavy red hair washed down over her shoulders and she was smiling.

He blinked. What the hell is going on here? The scene washed away nearly as fast as it had appeared. It was replaced by a bunk bed. Bernard sat on the top, his legs swung over the side, and he was twisting around so he could look at Clint, who laid on the bottom bunk, his hands folded behind his head. It was an image of the two when they were at the orphanage. Bernard was chatting on animatedly about something. His legs swung dangerously, though he had complete control over his body.

This, too, was washed away. This time, it was replaced by a rain-picture of just Bernard, in much greater detail. He wore a white wife beater, tucked into his skinny jeans. This was not at all a bad look for Bernard, as he was about as skinny as a stick, yet muscular at the same time. His hands were in his pockets as he strolled along side a pretty blond girl. Clint scowled as he recognized the girl.

Rachel Schneider was a complete and utter bitch. He had told her of this characteristic of hers more than once and she only shrugged, saying it came in her genetics. And yet, Barney was completely enthralled by her.

The scene in the window in front of him then clarified, and it almost felt like a video- as if the window had just magically converted itself into a television. Of course, with Clint's experience with people like Loki and Thor- heck, even Stark- nothing really surprised him anymore. The two of them were walking along in some department store, laughing and talking about nothing in particular, Barney occasionally bending down to pick something off the floor and replace it on the shelf. The 'camera' panned out to reveal the two younger kids they were following through the store- Clint and Valerie.

Valerie was Rachel's adopted little sister. Or, more accurately, Rachel was Valerie's adopted older sister. In reality, they were cousins, but when Rachel ran away from her abusive father, she found sanctuary with her mother's sister.

Except, Valerie was nothing like Rachel; she was _fun _and fun_ny_ and everything Clint could ask for a girl. The only problem was that she was really quiet- _shy_ almost_. _

The window before him depicted the four teenagers walking through the store, the two younger ones giggling (no, Clint told himself, he was definitely not giggling. That was all Valerie, thank you very much) and knocking things off the shelf. It was obviously on purpose, and young-Clint even had the audacity to look over his shoulder to laugh as Bernard patiently picked it up and righted it.

His gaze into the crystal ball of the window was only broken when his chin thumped again the floor, waking him up from his dream.

"Ow…" he mumbled, rubbing his chin. He looked at the window suspiciously, as if it were going to sprout legs and walk off.

He was faintly relieved that that had just been a dream. He'd be mildly concerned if he seriously thought he was seeing things in the rain gathering on a window pane.

He sighed, stretching his sore back and neck. Note to self- don't sleep in chairs, it leaves you sore and more tired than you were before. He looked back at the mirror, at the reflection of himself in it. His blond hair was sticking up in the back, and from his eyes hung black bags of fatigue.

He stood suddenly, and sloped his way into the living room. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a half hour, seeing as halftime is just starting in the game. The couches in the room were completely occupied- even T'Challa was sitting there, staring intently at the screen. That left Clint to lean against the wall, his arms crossed.

Jan moved to get up, and was suddenly assailed with requests of more beer. Sighing and blowing a stray hair out of her face, she agreed, striding out towards the kitchen, smiling at Clint on the way. As soon as she was out of the room, Clint quickly snatched her seat.

Two and a half hours later, Jan having returned and passed out drinks, groaning and arguing with Clint over her seat, the game was almost over. It was 30-26, and Cap and Tony's favorite team was behind.

Their team was _also_ making a run for a touchdown. They were about ten yards off when the screen went black, to quickly morph into the Avengers symbol, while all their com links began to beep.

"Avengers! Assemble!" Tony yelled, to much groaning from Cap and Hulk.

"But the game's almost done!" Cap whined, his face turning to Tony, but his eyes staying on the screen, which had returned to the game.

"Steve! We need to go!" Tony insisted. Cap sighed, but got up and followed the rest of the team out of the room, looking back over his shoulder longingly as the door swung shut.

The six of them ran and changed into their costumes quickly, meeting back in the war room five minutes later to find what they had been alerted to. In hindsight, he had to wonder how they managed to do that. Five minutes and they were all in the ridiculous spandex and chain-mail that made up their crazy superhero costumes. He had to bite his metaphorical mind-tongue from thinking what his brother probably thought every time he saw Clint running around on TV in purple spandex.

Anyhow, focusing on the task at hand.

Blue prints of a high priority holding building in Riker's appeared in the air above the table.

"So about two weeks ago, this big racketeer guy was sent to Riker's. He vowed that his buddies were gonna crack him out. He was put in high priority for non-super-villains. It now seems that his buddies are done waiting. They've launched a string of robberies in downtown. This can only mean that they are building up a distraction in order to get their boss back." Tony explained.

"You know what that means, team. We gotta split up. Hank, Jan, you get to this point," Steve motioned to the first blue dot on the map of New York that replaced Riker's, "Panther and Thor can take this point," he motioned to a second blue dot on the map "Tony and I can handle this point," he said, pointing at the third dot, "and Hulk and Hawkeye can manage the prison till the rest of us get there." They all nodded in tandem, and went off to their own quinjets.

Hawkeye got into the pilot's seat, buckling himself in. "You ready, big guy?" he asked Hulk, who grunted in response.

He started the engines, and they were off, barreling toward the prison island.

They arrived quickly, and were escorted by guards to the building in which their person of interest was being held.

"Here he is," the guard announcing. Hulk and Hawkeye came to stand in front of laser wall keeping the prisoner in. Said prisoner was sitting on his cot, crouched over, with his chin on his palm and elbow on his knee. He looked bored and tired- it reminded Clint vaguely of Loki, always looking for trouble to amuse himself with. He was clad in the Riker's Island inmate getup,

He was skinny, as if he hadn't gotten enough food as a kid. He looked small, although he was probably only a bit shorter than Clint. His pale skin glinted in the white light seeping into his cell from the corridor.

Hulk's shadow fell over him as the monster stopped to stand in front of the cell, causing the inmate to look up. His curly reddish-brown hair fell gently against his face, and his greenish-blue eyes caught up with Hawkeye's.

Clint instantly recognized him, his eyes growing wide. The prisoner grinned wolfishly when he realized who the man in purple was. He stood slowly, and stretched his arms and back, confidence outlining every one of his muscles. He smirked at the guard as the guard turned to leave, and then walked casually up to the bars. He stood in front of Clint- now close enough to compare height, the inmate was two inches shorter. Honestly, even with this difference of height- and the fact that this guy was probably fifty pounds lighter than Clint- he was still really intimidating. Just the fact that the man standing in front of him was in fact who he was enough to make Clint's face freeze in an expression between shock and fear.

The prisoner looked Clint up and down, and chuckled at the expression he found on Clint's face. Clint knew he should really fix his face so this guy didn't get any ideas, but he absolutely could not feel his face anymore, and had no hope of preserving his dignity.

"Long time no see, junia'," drawled Barney Barton in his thick Mississippian accent.

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><p><strong>GASP OMG WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT?<strong>

well, i honestly don't see why _i _just asked that, seeing as I know what's going to happen, but oh well.

So plz comment and tell me if you liked it.

or didn't like it... whichev.

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><p>And here are some questions for you to ponder:<p>

1. Why does Barney Barton have a Mississippian accent?

2. Why did Hulk not say anything while this whole stare-down thing between Clint and Barney was going down?

3. Where are Cap and Ironman?

4. Why am I asking you all these questions?

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><p>STAY TUNED FOR NEXT TIME, TRUE BELIEVERS ;) (lol see what i did there?)<p> 


	2. Breakout

Clint's brother smirked widely, somehow managing to look down at him.

Clint's eye twitched at the manner in which the _prisoner_ spoke to him almost condescendingly. He scowled and turned his back to the cell, which only made Barney start laughing

"Sho', jus' igno' meh, like usual," he barked between laughs. Hulk shifted to also turn his back on the inmate.

"You know this guy?" he grunted quietly, side-glancing at Clint.

Clint's expression was still stuck in his scowl- it felt like he had no control over his face anymore. He didn't know how to answer Hulk's question, instead looking over the large, high-ceilinged corridor filled with cells and various inmates and guards. He surveyed their faces, trying to figure out what the escape plan could possibly be. He didn't see any obvious points which would be easily overtaken by any un-super-powered group.

"Yeah, boy. You know dis guy?" Barney questioned sarcastically.

He turned back around to find Barney leaning against the wall inside his cell right beside Clint. His arms were crossed and the toe of one of his feet rested on the top of the other, his hips and head cocked to the side to lean place more of his weight on the wall- exactly how Clint did, god dammit! This served to intensify Clint's scowl and causing him to arms.

"Stop that," Clint demanded.

"Stawp wut?" Barney asked innocently

"You know perfectly well '_wut',_" Clint exclaimed, pointing accusingly at the inmate, his posture quickly changing to reflect his readiness for a fight- though you can't fight with someone through bars.

The prisoner sighed in return, saying, "You really haven't changed at awl, eh, Hawky?" as he rolled his head to the opposite side.

"Is there a mute button on this or somethin?" Clint asked himself, looking around the wall outside the cell for a control panel of some sort. Barney just snickered in response.

After concluding that no, there was not a mute button, Clint blew an irritated breath through his teeth and resolved to turn his back to the man again.

Suddenly his com sounded, and he could hear Ironman ask, "Hawkeye, any movement in the jail yet?"

"Not yet. How's you situation?" Clint responded.

"Cap and I are just cleaning up here. Minor civilian injury, but that's being taken care of. We'll join you at the prison in a moment."

At that moment, Hulk grunted, his head jerking towards the ceiling, and, as Clint clicked the button to respond to Ironman, that was all the warning they he got before a large portion of the roof fell in front of them.

A gigantic man with a grey hide and a horn like a rhino's stood huffing before them. Hawkeye assumed that this was the criminal known as Rhino. Behind him, he could hear his brother howling with laughter now. Hulk roared and rush at the new comer, even as more, normal-sized mercenaries filled in around him. Most of them held large guns or looked like they could rip Hawkeye apart like a piece of paper.

Hawkeye grabbed an arrow from his quiver and put it to the bow, aiming for the center of the group of mercs. The ground shook as Hulk attempted to smash Rhino to a pulp, although he was putting up a pretty good fight. The magnetic shock of his first arrow filled the air and slowed down the mercs attempts to free every prisoner in sight.

Before he could dock another arrow, an explosion went off on his left, throwing him off balance and onto the ground. His bow fell out of his grasp spinning as it hit the ground and sliding away.

More laughter came from the cell as Barney watched the scene before him gleefully. Clint hopped up just as a stout man with a toupee and tux jogged over to the lock on Barney's cell. Clint's eyes darted between his bow and the man pulling something small out of his pocket.

Before he could decide which situation was more urgent, however, the man had set up a detonator on the lock, covering his ears and running off to be lost in the crowd of inmates.

Hulk had taken Rhino out by now, and as the ticking on the detonator got faster and faster, a blur of red, gold and blue flew in through the hole in the roof. Shell Head released Cap, sending him smashing through the villains. Rays of light from Ironman's hands and feet blazed through the corridor, destroying more of the concrete structure.

Hawkeye ran towards the detonator as it sped up, trying to knock it off its place on the lock.

Unfortunately, when he was only about five feet from the bars, it went off. Once again, Clint was thrown to the ground. His head ached and his ears rang loudly. The world outside his head seemed to be quiet, the oppressive silence sinking in on him even as he just lay sprawled on the ground. A white light exploded behind his eyes. He squinted against the excruciating brightness of the overhead lights.

He sat up slowly, his entire body aching from the aftershock of the bomb. He looked around himself, and found that most of the people who had previously been up and fighting were now draped across the prison floor, even most of the mercenaries and Ironman. Hulk collapsed on top of several mercs, leaving a slight dent in the concrete around him. Ironman had collapsed and Steve was sitting up gingerly, favoring his left wrist.

Clint looked up and saw Bernard step out from behind the rubble that used to be the bars holding him in. He was smirking widely, and the man who had set up the bomb returned, his tuxedo still perfectly wrinkle-free. He handed Bernard a leather jacket, which Barney easily popped up over his arms and onto his shoulders. With a broad grin on his face, he looked over the crowd now jumbled at his feet. He sighed happily and made eye contact with one of his men still standing, motioning him to come over to him.

The boy, probably not any older than nineteen, had a creepy, wiry frame, and his lips seemed to naturally curl into a malicious smile. His eyes were dark and his black hair seemed to curl back on itself to form horns.

Bernard whispered something in this boy's ear, and they smiled at each other before the boy moved his arms, so his palms faced the ceiling, and he mouthed some incantation. Green energy enveloped itself around Clint, and gently pushed him to his feet. Blinking, he tried to move away from the energy, but it seemed to be preventing him from moving at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that all of the Avengers were in a similar predicament.

"So, dis is all dey sent ta try ta keep me in jail? Ah'm a little _insulted" _Barney commented loudly, his voice echoing so that everyone heard it.

He strolled over to stand in front of Clint and smirked even more so than before. "Ya look pretty good, Clint. Been workin' out or somet'in'?" he laughed, "Ya know, I been meanin' ta return somethin' ta you…" he felt his pockets and pulled something out, grabbing Clint by the wrist and opening his hand against his will. He slid a small piece of metal into his palm and closed Clint's fingers around it. "Rachel t'ought ya might have use of it, seein' as we don' need it no more."

Clint blinked, and tried to feel what he was holding without the ability of flexing his hand or looking down. Bernard smiled at him- really smiled- and then moved away, looking out the gaping hole in the roof.

"Frederick, where's de copter?" he asked, looking towards another man.

"It should be just about thirty seconds out." And he was proven correct by the faint beating sound of a helicopter. Barney nods and looks back around at the Avengers, motionless and wrapped in the strange green energy.

"Capt'n Amurica, I'onman, Hulk, and Hawkeye. Dat's about half of 'em, right?" Barney asked Frederick.

"Yeah, I think so," he responded dumbly.

"The others'll prob'ly show up quick enough. You all ready for dat?" he nodded to the group of mercenaries now gather under the gaping hole. They nodded and grumbled something all at once.

"Here we are, sir!" the man with the tuxedo yelled. The beating from the Helicoptor had grown slowly louder in the last minute, and was now hovering above them. Several ropes dropped through the hole, along with one rope ladder, which Barney climbed onto, the rest of them grabbing a rope.

Barney turned back towards Clint as he was slowly lifted out, a smirk on his face, and winked, "See ya, Hawky."

And he was gone, along with the green energy.

Without the energy to hold him up, Ironman fell to the ground.

"Shell Head! Are you okay?" Steve shouted, running over to his side, his wrist held to his chest.

"I-… I'm fine… what was that that hit us?" Tony responded blearily

"It was a detonator, I think. You guys were farther away from it, but it looks like it hit you two harder," Clint responded, "What's wrong with your wrist, Cap?"

"It's nothing. Are you gonna be okay, Ironman?"

"Uh, I may need to recharge my battery," he tapped the arc reactor, which was glowing faintly, "It felt like some kinda solar storm- it completely zapped my wires."

Around them, as they spoke, guards filed into the wreckage of their prison, grabbing the escaped inmates as they slept, and re-chained them.

"We need to get everyone back to the mansion- where are the others?" Tony coughed, sitting up slowly, with assistance from Cap.

"Wasp, Ant-Man, what's your situation?" Cap barked into the comm.

"They've got several hostages- we can't really do anything here, but we're waiting for an opportunity, Cap. The cops are handling the best they can. They've got the place rigged, and no one can enter the premise. Wasp tried, but there was a motion detector. She's sitting the rest of this out. What about you?"

"The convict escaped. My wrist got banged up and so did Ironman. Clint and Hulk seem to be fine…" Cap said, then looked up suddenly, "wait, where's Hulk?"

As if on cue, a pile of rubble shifted, and Hulk stood up, the slabs of concrete falling of his shoulders and landing by his feet.

"Are you in pursuit?"

"No, Shell Head's armor was fried, and we're all a bit too shaken up for pursuit. Have you gotten word from Panther and Thor?"

"No, you'd better check in on them. I'll meet you back at the Mansion when the situation here is dissolved."

"Roger that," Cap nodded, clicking several buttons on his comm. "Panther, what's your situation?"

And it continued on like that until Cap figured out what was going on with everyone.

Meanwhile, Clint was able to look at the object in his hand. It was a little, golden ring with a heart on it. The heart was held by two hands, on either side of it, and was wearing a little gold crown. Clint blinked, surprised, and swallowed around the lump suddenly forming in his throat.

When they all met back at the mansion, they sat around the round Avengers meeting table. Wasp was holding an icepack to her head, Cap had his wrist wrapped up, Tony was looking all over frail, and Panther had a black eye- although no one could see this through his mask.

Clint had a headache, and he wasn't sure how much of it actually came from the fight. He still held the ring in his hand, looking at it from time to time.

"Clint, who the hell was he? It didn't say his name in the description, and from the looks of it, you and him were pretty friendly once," Tony looked at him with a faint scrutinizing scowl, which was all he could muster in his current condition.

"It was, uh… it was nobody." He said, looking up from the ring to meet Tony's gaze, squeezing his fingers around the old Kennedy family heirloom.


	3. Midnight Visit

The building was dark, and he doubted anyone was left inside. All the sane people had gone bed or to their quarters.

Out of all the things he'd done in his twenty seven years, this may just be the most stupid stunt he'd ever pulled.

The bungee chord he connected to a hook on the roof the S.H.I.E.L.D. Regional Office stretched as he jumped stealthily from window to window. He didn't dare look down, because he already knew he was about thirty floors up.

Carefully, he lowered himself another ten feet, until he was situated with his feet on a window that was located on the twenty eighth floor. Grabbing a gadget from his belt that he had recently stolen from Stark's lab, he flipped the cap on the small capsule-looking thing open and stuck it onto the window. He then grabbed his two suction cups and popped them onto either side of the window, left and right, and pulled the window out of it's 'socket', angled it to the side, and pushed it into the room. Following the window in, he unhooked himself from the strap around his legs and waist, and stepped into the office, setting the window down against the wall under the window sill.

He was lucky, no alarms- that he could hear- had gone off.

"What do you think you're doing, Barton?" someone asked from the dark of the office.

Phil Coulson sat at his desk, back turned to Clint, reading a stack of papers.

"How'd you know it was me?" Clint asked, walking around the desk to sit in the chair across from Agent Coulson.

"Who else would be dumb enough to break into my office?" Coulson asked, still not looking up, even as the cool night wind blew in through his open window. How he could read in the dark, Clint would never understand.

"You got a point there. I was sort of expecting you to be gone on a mission or something…" Clint trailed off.

"So, if not for my charming company, what did you come here for?" he asked, looking up.

"You're computer."

"Ah, of course," Phil said, looking back down, "You want to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D's database."

"Come on, Coulson, can't I just look at one thing!" Clint goaded.

"No. You are no longer a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, Barton. You don't have the authority to do so."

"Then can you look something up for me?"

Coulson paused, staring at the paper in front of him, "And what would you have me look up." It wasn't a question. Clint smiled- Coulson was gonna do it!

"Two people, I want to know where they are right now."

"Which two people?"

"Their names are Bernard, or Barney, Barton and Rachel Schneider. Barney's from McComb, Mississippi and Rachel's from Kissimmee, Florida."

"So you're looking for your brother and his girlfriend?" Phil asked, amused, looking up at Clint again. The wet breeze that blew in his face made him shiver.

"Uh, yeah" Clint looked at his feet, then his snapped his face back up to cock his head at Coulson, "How'd you know?"

Coulson set his elbows on his desk and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "When you were put in jail for treason, Agent Hill became suspicious of your brother, also, as he had worked for the FBI at the time. So as to 'quench' her suspicion, Fury sent Widow to 'investigate' your family. Of course, at the time, it was claimed that Bernard was just an 'undercover FBI agent', but now he's gone quite rogue."

"So Widow went digging around Mississippi? Great."

"Better her than Hill herself, right?"

"I guess. But will you find 'em for me?"

"Not right now, but when I have some free time, maybe. Just stay out of trouble and try not to crack my window on the way out."

"Thanks, Phil," he grinned, slipping back out the window.

"And Clint?" Clint looked back at him, "Nice ring."

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><p><strong>AN **Sorry it's such a short chapter today, but i think it got the point across, I didn't want to add too much at one time... there's not much to be said right now.

And yeah, i used one of the movieverse characters here, but i think you guys should understand what's going on anyway.

And just saying, this is probably going on in like, November. Seeing as I'm not from NY, idk if there's snow yet there, and idk when the snow melts in NY...but if anyone wants to inform me of the snow patterns of NYC, you're welcome to. In fact, you're encouraged. ;)

And if anyone's wondering, the ring that Barney gave Clint in Chappie 2 was in fact a Claddagh ring (which is, from my understanding, an Irish promise ring).

Thanks for reading, plz review! :D


	4. Debriefing

Hey guys! I hope you all have been enjoying school :6 It's really rainy here and my dogs keep jumping on me and getting me all muddy xP

Also, for those of you wondering what was going on with my chappie 3... i DID reboot that. i renamed it and added a(n) (important) line at the end. ;)

anyway, enjoy. (i really like this chapter... maybe my favorite so far?)

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><p>Clint was practicing his archery against the training room settings.<p>

He jumped and grabbed a rope hanging from the ceiling to swing over the hole in the floor that had appeared before him.

His comm. beeped at him. He glanced down at it, and saw that, once again, Captain America was trying to get a hold of him. He rolled his eyes and dismissed it- he'd been getting calls all morning, from Cap and Tony alike. They wanted to debrief him from yesterday, or something, but he knew he couldn't tell them anything. It would just end up making him all pissed off and storming out of the mansion, possibly to go confront some super-villain and get himself in _serious_ trouble.

On the wall on either side of him, three ten inch squares of the wall fell away, and small canons appeared in their place. As they began to shoot at him, he ran, loading his bow with three arrows and destroying all three of the canons on one wall with little bombs at the tip of each.

He was about to do the same to the three on the other wall when the program shut down. The door to the training room rolled open, and revealed none other than Steve Rogers.

"What the heck, man?" Clint asked, clicking a button on his bow and folding it up.

"We need to have you checked up. The explosion yesterday must've knocked you around somehow," Cap answered curtly, stepping to the side to allow Jane Foster access to the door.

"I don't need a doctor, Cap. I'm fine. It only knocked me on my ass."

"But how can I trust your word for it?" Cap asked, cocking his head to the side and blinking at him.

"Okay, what are you trying to make me do." Clint asked, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

Cap sighed, "Barton, you have two choices here. You can Let the nice lady examine you for injuries, or you can come to the war room and tell Ironman and I exactly what went down yesterday. Your choice," Cap said, positioning himself directly in the middle of the doorway, seeing the speculation in Clint's eyes. Clint was trying to figure out how far he could get by barreling by Steve and running as fast as he could before someone would catch up with him.

Seeing as he probably couldn't actually_ barrel through _Steve, he decided he wouldn't get too far. He would have to approach this matter much more… subtly.

"Fine, let's go talk with Uncle Tony," Clint slumped, and Steve grinned, holding out his arm to let Clint walk in front of him.

They had gotten to the bottom of the stairs in the lobby, and Clint decided that this was as good of time as any. Pretending to start walking up the steps, he slowed down a bit so Steve would be beside him instead of behind him, and used the third step to push off backwards, jumping five feet away, and making a run for the door.

"Hey!" Steve yelled, but Clint was already out the door. The gate was closing before him, but that didn't matter. He ran between two of the thick bushes planted beside the gate and jumped the brick fence.

He heard the propellers of Ironman's suit zipping overhead, but he turned and ran before looking up- it would only distract him from trying to get away.

He'd gotten about two and a half blocks- Clint was a fast runner, mind you- before Ironman landed in front of him.

"Clint, we just want to talk to you! Stop running!" But Clint wouldn't have it. He pulled out a special arrow- a type that he hadn't used in years- and let it zoom towards Ironman. It didn't hit him, but instead started zooming around him, emitting a high pitched shrieking, causing all the people within vicinity to cover their ears and double over. The arrow was set to a special frequency to send Tony's suit into overdrive, temporarily disabling him.

He didn't look back to see where Cap was, but turned to continue running.

He came to an alley he knew about seven blocks down. Giving himself a running start, and jumped onto a dumpster placed conveniently beneath a set of fire escape ladders. Grabbing the bottom rung on the ladder, he climbed the first few just with his arms, but was then able to put his feet onto the rungs, giving him enough leverage to jump the rest of the space to the roof of the building.

He sat there and gave himself a minute to gain his breath.

Clint really had no idea why he always had to fight authority, even his _friends_, but he did. He really wanted to be able to just talk to people, but he'd never been good at that. His head said 'just talk to them' but his heart- or maybe it was something else in his head?- said 'no, you can't do that. They'd laugh at you and ridicule you, ya idiot'. It was about then that his old Mississippian accent would seep back into his thoughts.

That was another thing- why didn't he use his Mississippian accent? He'd been fine with it until he started hearing his first real girlfriend- Valerie- start mispronouncing things with her southern accent. Since then he'd done his best to talk 'normally'. Honestly, wouldn't you think that someone who had an accent would think that that accent was normal?

Clint was starting to confuse himself. Why was he on a roof again?

He was quickly reminded by the roar of Cap's motorcycle, which was slowly making it's way down the road outside of the alley he was in.

He ducked down, his breathing now regulated, and tried to make sure Cap didn't notice him. Just in case, he reached back into his quiver, pulling out an electro-shock arrow.

But something didn't seem right. He reached back again, and silently counted how many arrows were in his quiver.

There were five. He had twenty just a minute ago… which meant that he dropped fifteen arrows in the last nine blocks. That probably left a pretty clear path, pointing directly do where he was hiding.

"Hawkeye, I know you're up there. Can't you at least act civilized? You didn't need to attack Ironman like that," Steve called.

"Yeah, and he didn't need to get the suit out!" Clint called over the ledge, still not looking. He pressed the feather of the arrow to the string, getting it ready.

"Clint, we just want to talk to you."

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk to _you_!"

"Then you can talk to Tony."

"You really think that's much better?"

"Come on, Clint! I didn't even bring my shield- we're not fighting you here. We're on your side!"

"I'm glad you say so- that means there no hard feelings over this…" Clint said, standing up, but hiding the bow and arrow out of sight of Steve still. Steve had dismounted his bike, and was standing near the trash can, looking up at Clint, fiddling with the arrow that he'd dropped as he jumped up onto the roof. Cap's wrist had healed completely from the fracture he received to the Scaphoid yesterday.

"Yeah, now just come down and we can talk."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about _that_, I was talking about _this_" and he launched the arrow, which hit Steve right in the center of the chest.

Clint didn't watch as it electrocuted Steve, instead, he jumped the gap between the roof he stood on and the next roof, and ran along the rooftops.

Unfortunately, he hadn't realized that Pym stood on the other roof (mini-sized) until he jumbo-sized up and caught Clint as he jumped

"Clint, settle down and answer the nice people's questions, okay?" he asked condescendingly into his hand.

Clint glared, squirmed and struggled in the large red-spandex-clad hand, and gave up, "Fine," he huffed, even as he released two arrows from their place up his sleeve.

After being forced back to the mansion, his bow and quiver were removed from him by a weary-eyed Pepper, and they were set on the far side of the room, opposite him.

"What the hell, Clint."Tony was still a little dazed from Clint's crazy arrow thing, and his ears were still ringing, causing him to wobble occasionally.

Steve was shuddering slightly, from after effects of the electrocution.

Hank's hand was bleeding slightly from the arrows Clint managed to stab him with, causing Hank to drop him.

Jan's arm was bruised from Clint smacking her away after he'd gotten away from Hank and she tried to reinforce them.

Thor's hair was caked in mud.

T'Challa was nursing a gash in his right hand.

It had taken them a little over an hour to wrestle him back to the mansion, and they now had him securely latched to a chair in the war room.

They all sat around glaring at him. It had taken the combined efforts of Thor, Panther, and Hulk to get him to give up- well, not give up (never give up, ever) but at least be held down long enough for Cap to tie his hands behind his back and heave him over his shoulder.

"What do you want?" Clint snapped.

"I think you already have a pretty good idea as to what we want, otherwise you wouldn't have ran like that." Clint rolled his eyes at Cap.

"Fury's riding our asses over letting that guy go yesterday. He says we need to catch him again, seeing as we're the ones who let him go" Tony informed him, "Seeing as you and Mr. Escapee seem to know each other pretty well, we want you to give us the lowdown."

"And why do you think I know him?"

"Well, let's see. He knew your first name, he said 'oh, you look good', he gave you something, saying he thought you 'might have use for it', and then said, 'See ya, Hawky', or something. Even psychos don't talk to people they don't know like that-and they especially don't guess random people's names right."

"Okay, so he knows me from a long time ago. That doesn't mean I know anything about him!"

"Actually, most of the time, that _does_ mean that." Wasp put in. Clint glared at her, "Just saying," she said, putting up her hands defensively. She winced at the sharp pain that caused in her arm.

"_Most of the time_" he snapped back. Wasp shrugged.

"Okay, let's simplify this for you- what did he give you?" Ant-Man offered.

"Nuthin'," Clint answered without thinking about it.

Cap folded his hands behind his back and circled him, "Oh really? Then where'd this ring come from, Clint?" Clint squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brow.

"So, why would this mysterious guy who you don't really know, but knows a lot about you, just give you this beautiful gold ring? Clint, have you not been telling us something?" Tony smirked playfully, having bent down to inspect the ring now residing on Clint's pinky finger, the heart pointing away from the rest of his hand.

Clint glared down at his feet. "Care to share something with the rest of the class, Clint?"

"It was my ma's," Clint all but whispered, his eyes now relaxed, and somewhat pathetic looking. He seemed to have shrunken into the chair he was placed in.

Everyone froze- Clint getting sensitive? Shit, it's a sign of the apocalypse. They're all gonna die.

"Fuck, Clint, I'm sorry." Tony blinked.

"Screw Fury, I'm not helping you guys go find my brother and drag his ass back to jail. Just, untie me now."

And with that, and several more blinks from the on looking Avengers, Clint stormed out and likely back into the gym to finish where he left off.

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><p>intense, right? LOL<p>

anyway, i really hope you enjoyed reading that as much as i enjoyed writing it! :3

So, i'm trying to make this story my 'most popular' story on , and it only has 25 more visitors to go!

Just saying, i write off of fuel. Fuel is an equivilent to 'reviews'. I usually write two chapters per review i get xD

I would still like to know the weather patterns/normalties of NY, and the same for Mississippi, if anyone happens to know.

I hope you guys like my references to the original Tales of Suspense comics in this chapter!

So, plz review and keep being awesome!


	5. Afternoon Visit

A/N OMG I LOVE YOU GUYS. 3  
>I swear, you guys here at the Avengers are awesome. I'm just gonna throw that out there.<br>Again, this is a short chappie with Agent Coulson, but I think it's good enough. ;) I hope ya'll enjoy.

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><p>Nearly four months had gone by without mention of the breakout at Riker's Island. The Christmas season has come and gone, and Valentine cards had recently been handed out.<p>

Hawkeye was shooting targets when his phone beeped. He looked at it questioningly, having just aimed his bow at the target moving across the room, and he sighed. Rolling his eyes, he picked up his phone and flipped it open (it was a cheap old flip phone he'd had for twice as long as he should).

Coulson was calling him. He pressed talk and answered, "Hello?"

"Yes, Clint, I need you to drop by the HQ at four o'clock this afternoon."

"You found something on them?"

"Just come by at four. Tell them Agent Coulson needs you for 11-14"

"Um… ok-" but Coulson had already hung up.

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><p>At exactly four o' clock that afternoon, Clint Barton walked up to the front desk of the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.<p>

"Can I help you?" the lady asked coldly, practically glaring up at him.

"Um, yes. Agent Coulson needs me for 11-14…?" he answered, trailing off at the end and hoping he got the number right.

"Very well. You know the way to his office? I'll let him know you're coming." She said, pressing a button and waving him down the hall.

Clint strolled down the corridors toward the large shiny elevator. It felt like he hadn't been here in forever, when in fact it has only been about a year.

Agents stopped and smiled at him and he waved back as he walked. He was probably friendlier now than when he was an agent here.

He got to the elevator and waited for it, and several people gathered around him, mostly wearing suits and shiny shoes. They chatted into cell phones and held brief cases, and shot dirty looks at Clint.

Suddenly, Clint felt very out of place.

He hadn't come in his purple uniform, but he was now thinking that even _that_ would be better than his jeans and sleeveless tee. God, and his old sneakers were smudged with mud. Damn it.

The elevator door slid open, and Clint held his head down as he entered, pressing the level 28 button.

The elevator dinged and swept them upwards and stopped at levee five. People got off and were replaced by others and they were off again.

Ty the time they reached level 22, most of the crowd had cleared.

The level 22 button had not been pressed by anyone, but the elevator jerked to a stop there anyway.

The doors pulled back to reveal none other than Agent Bobbi Morse, also known as Mocking bird. Clint swallowed as she entered the elevator and came to stand next to him, not so much as acknowledging him.

Obviously, she didn't recognize him without the purple get up. That was kind of a depressing thought- one of his oldest team mates didn't even _recognize _him unless he was clad in _purple spandex._ This made him vaguely think of a site that Tony once showed him called 'FML'.

He rubbed his knuckles over the palm of his other hand, the ring scratching lightly against his skin. The movement caused her to look up at Clint, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Barton?" she stated, only slightly questioning. He blinked.

"Yes?"

She cocked her head to the other side, "What bring you back here?"

"Uhh…" He honestly didn't know what to say. Luckily, the elevator reached level 28 and the doors slid open at that moment. "Got to go! Bye! Keep in touch!" he called, exiting the elevator quickly.

That was close. He then wondered what 11-14 was.

He came to a stop in front of Coulson's door. He knocked, and was answered with a curt, "Come in."

Closing the door behind him, he took the seat across from Coulson, which he had occupied the night he attempted to break in.

Coulson looked him up and down, and said, "Nice shirt".

Clint blushed lightly, though he'd deny if ever asked, and looked down at the ACDC tee he wore.

"What'd you find?" He asked earnestly, eager to both hear what Coulson had to say and to change the subject.

"Not much, but I think it will sufficiently answer any questions you have. I pulled Widow's files, and did a little research of my own."

Clint nodded, wanting to get on to the info.

"Bernard Barton and Rachel Schneider share a residency about thirty minutes of New Orleans, Louisiana, with their children." He paused, studying Clint's reaction to this calmly.

"Children…?" Clint let the word roll over his tongue, the implications not yet settling in. "Wait, what children?"

"Damien, Angelica Jolina, Christina May, and Antebellum," Coulson stated simply.

Clint blinked- Barney had kids? _Four _kids? When the hell did this happen? It had only been twelve years ago that the two of them; were still working for the carnival!

Coulson cleared his throat and continued, "Bernard's job is based in New York City, although no one really knows what's up with him. Some think he's the notorious New York racketeer, some think he's still the great FBI agent. When Widow looked into him, he checked out clean."

Clint furrowed his brow, "Would the FBI really let one of their agents be sent to jail when they know they're clean?"

"Would S.H.I.E.L.D?" he asked pointedly.

"Okay, touché," he dipped his head in agreement, "What do you got on the kids?"

"Again, not much. Damien is twelve, Angelica is ten, Christina is nine, and Antebellum is seven. They were all born and baptized in Mobile, Mississippi."

"Twelve years…" Clint muttered incredulously, "Can I have his address?" Clint sat up, reaching his hand out, silently request something be put in it. Coulson rolled his eyes and wrote something down on a note pad, ripped it off, and gave it to Clint.

"Today is the twentieth? Right?" Clint asked, shoving the note in his jeans pocket, and standing up.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Thanks, Phil," He walked to the door and opened it, "Oh, and happy Mardi Gras," he winked, and the door snapped shut.

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><p>So, if you guys want more, just review!<p>

I love reviews so much.

SWgirl and I have been having lovely conversations about the awesome world of the Avengers, so hey! We might just have a guest star here sometime!

* * *

><p>HERE ARE SOME QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO PONDER ^_^<p>

1. What are Barney's kids like?

2. Is Hawkeye going to New Orleans for Mardi Gras? If so, what is he going to wear?

3. Are the rest of the Avengers going to let Clint just go after his brother?

4. What's up with Hawkeye's mom's ring?

5. What's up with Hawkeye and his brother, period?

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><p>K, thanks, review, i love you, bye. :D<p> 


	6. Welcome to the French Quarter

Clint shoved clothes into his bag, not bothering to keep it tidy. It was eleven thirty, and if he left soon, he'd get there before sunrise tomorrow. You know, if he pushed the speed a bit.

Zipping the bag, he heaved it over his shoulder. He still wasn't in uniform, but it was packed away in his bag, just in case. Quietly flicking off his lights, he pulled the door open…

To find Steve in full uniform, leaning against the door frame. "And where do you think you're going?"

Clint blinked, surprised, but quickly regained his composure, "I was thinking about going out and getting a drink. I've been craving chicken late…" he smirked. Steve rolled his eyes.

"You do realize how late it is, right? You need to get your rest- we're training tomorrow morning. And, I don't see why you'd need a bag of clothes to go eat chicken."

Now it's Clint's turn to roll his eyes. He pushes by Steve and starts his way down the hall.

"The front door's the other way, Clint."

"I know- but who said anything about eating chicken around here, right?" Steve jogged up to walk beside him.

"I know you're going after you're brother, Clint, and I want to come with you."

"No way, you can't come. I need to talk to him myself, without anyone else around."

"Clint, anything could happen. You need backup and you know it."

"He's my _brother_. I need to talk to him."

"And you can, but you have to understand Clint- he's a _criminal._ He's one of the most notorious racketeers in _all of New York,_" Steve stopped walking.

"So, basically, the Boy Scout wants to go on a little field trip- that's what you're saying?" Clint paused, looking back at Steve.

"No, what he's saying is that we _all_ want to come along," stated Hank, who appeared from around the corner along with Jan and Tony. Clint cocked an eyebrow at the four standing before him.

"Why?"

"Because you're our team mate, stupid," Tony stated matter-of-factly.

"And… I always wanted to go to Mardi Gras!" Jan added. Clint shot her a look, "What?" she asked dismissively.

"You guys can_not_ come. What if something happens while we're gone?" Clint argued.

"We're leaving Thor, Panther, and Hulk in charge in our absence. Nothing can go wrong."

"But… what if… Well, you guys are gonna stick out like sore thumbs down there. I know this might sound crazy, but most people don't run around in spandex."

"Clint, we do have civilian clothes."

"But it's Mardi Gras, and none of you have costumes."

"I can make masks!" Jan interjected.

"But Barney'll think ya'll're attacking him, and he'll run."

"He doesn't seem the type to run."

"Okay, but he'll still do… something…"

"We'll hang around off to the side. No one will notice we're there."

Clint sighed. "Fine. Get packed and meet down in the jet in fifteen minutes. You're not there, you're not going. I'm thinking spending one night in a hotel, but you may wanna pack for at least three night, just in case" They all nodded, and went their separate ways to pack.

* * *

><p>Just short of three hours later, they received clearance to land in the Louis Armstrong Airport.<p>

A half hour after that, they were cruising through New Orleans, the dark of the night obscuring their view, in a rental car Tony had reserved for them the minute they got in the air. Gotta love technology.

Jan, who was completely wiped out from the plane ride- during which she crafted some really spectacular masks for the five of them to wear- and the argument she had with Hank over whether or not the two of them should come along in the first place she had earlier in the evening.

They soon came upon a river, and she noted that a road sign on the light they zoomed by read 'River Road'. That's fitting, she guessed. She looked up to the driver's seat. Clint wasn't looking at directions or anything; he looked pretty much at home here. "Have you been to New Orleans before, Clint? I thought you were from Mississippi."

"Uh, yeah. My hometown's about two hours that way," he said, waving his hand to the left, which she assumed was north. "My pa had family down here, and my ma had a lot of friends who lived here. We came here a lot, and Barney and I continued to come here for Holidays for a while."

They took a right, and then a left. Clint smirked, and said, "To left, you will now see the campus of Loyola University. This is where my mother went to school," he sounded like a tour bus driver.

The street slowly curved, likely following the pattern of the river. Several quick turns later, they pulled up next to a quaint brick building, snug among the other older buildings that joined it. It was old fashioned, with little plant holders full of pink and purple flowers under every window. It looked like it was taken out of a colonial documentation. A little maroon sign read the name of the hotel in fancy curly letters. Clint smiled, and said, "Welcome to the French Quarter, guys."

While the others went ahead to the room Clint had previously reserved for himself, Clint went elsewhere. He told Steve that he wanted to be up and going at about ten the next morning. Steve nodded sleepily and followed the rest into the room and to bed. (Clint, who seemed to have excellent foresight, had reserved a two queen-sized bedroom. Hank and Jan shared a bed- with a lot of pillows separating them- and Tony and Steve shared a bed… though Steve offered to sleep on the floor if Tony was uncomfortable. Tony declined this offer, saying that he was used to having another body with him- it would help him sleep).

* * *

><p>Clint quickly found himself in the nearest bar, but not ordering a drink. He was seated at a booth, watching the people around him. He honestly couldn't remember which bar it was that his cousins would always hang out in, but he felt like he recognized this place, so he was going to bet it was here.<p>

A rowdy group of blondes came through the door and took the empty seats at the bar. They ordered their drinks and started talking. Clint checked his watch: 3:44 AM. One of the blondes glanced his way, and quickly looked back at his friend. He leaned in and whispered something to the one next to him, and that blonde also glanced at him. They continued to whisper to each other, and Clint rolled his eyes. Soon, the whole group was talking and glancing at him, although trying to be 'stealthy' about it- they utterly failed at that part.

"Hey, Leon. Long time no see," Clint called.

The one he called to- the first one to notice him- froze mid-sentence. He turned to face Clint and smiled, "Hey. Whut bwrings you down heah, big shot?" he asked, his slight 'r' lisp still evident after all these years, and the others snickered at the little nickname, and Clint rolled his eyes. All six of Uncle Brian's kids- Leon, Sam, Jon, Marta, Sierra, and Mark- never really liked him.

"I was wondering if y'all had some 'festivities' planned for the day. Maybe a little shindig someone in the family's planning?" he asked, leaving his spot at the booth in return for a seat at the bar.

"Well, I guess there's a party going down at the Schneider's farm, but-"

"Well, thank you, Leon. I'll take that to heart. Night, boys." And Clint exited the bar. He didn't want to stick around those creeps too long- he wasn't here to get into fights. Instead, he strolled right back to the hotel, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and settled himself on the couch. He only wanted to make sure that the party was going to be at Barney's home, not off in the gooneys where he'd never find him. Clint knew he's be around here somewhere- Barney loved Mardi Gras- it's just figuring out exactly where that somewhere would be that Clint was worried about. Now that he had that information, he was free to let sleep over take him. Even on a hard and lumpy couch, he was glad to be resting after all the traveling in the last three or four hours, even if he'd only get that much sleep.

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><p><strong>AN **K, so not much going on right here... but sometimes, things just don't happen.

I promise that next chappie will be really fun and Barney will be back for a while and yeah. ;) It'll be beautiful.

And let's just say that "Uncle Brian" is Hawkeye's dad's brother, if you didn't guess that.

So... review :3


	7. Breakfast

Steve woke up early the next morning, but he didn't want to get up, lest he disturb Tony. He heard the light snoring of both Hank and Tony, and Jan seemed to be muttering something in her sleep. He had heard Clint come in last night, and wondered what he had been up to. Sitting up carefully, he got a glimpse of the clock. It read eight thirty eight in the morning. They had an hour and a half till Clint wanted to be going.

"Tony," he nudged the black haired man softly. "Tony, it's time to get up." All the reaction he got was a moan and having Tony's back turned to him. Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony, get up!" he said, pushing him lightly. Well, he thought it was lightly, but it resulted in Tony being pushed off the bed. Woops.

"Ow! What the hell, Steve?" Tony asked, sitting straight up on the floor, rubbing his neck. All Steve could see of him from here was the top of his head. He also saw Jan starting to rub her eyes and stretch.

Steve sat up. He had just worn sweats to bed, as did Tony. Jan sat up in her bed, and revealed her fuzzy pajama bottoms and baggy t-shirt she wore. Hank was still sleeping soundly, and there was no sign of movement from Clint.

"Well, now that we're up, what's for breakfast?" Steve asked, slipping some tennis shoes on. He pulled a tank top on and stretched. Jan whacked Hank softly, and he jolted awake. Steve glanced at the couch and realized for the first time that Clint wasn't even there.

"Where'd Clint go?" he asked. Jan also seemed to note the absence of their arrow-shooting friend, and shrugged, curiously looking towards the bathroom.

Suddenly, Tony's phone vibrated, sliding slightly closer to the edge of the night stand. He snatched it up and read the text he received.

"Says he's at a diner down the street a bit. He wants us to join him; he's already got a table." Tony said, translating the message for them.

"Uh, which way?" Steve asked.

"Let me see…" Tony clicked away at the phone. He sat staring at the screen for a few seconds, until it vibrated with Clint's response.

"Three or four doors down to the right, if you're facing out from the hotel door we came in last night."

"Okay, let's go. I'm hungry," Jan said, popping up and grabbing some clothes, running to the bathroom quickly.

When they came within sight of the café- a cute little old fashioned place with an old masonry front- they discovered Clint had snatched a large window booth. A pretty young woman was leaning against the booth side across from him, glaring down at him where he sat.

They were arguing about something, and the rest of them felt too uncomfortable to enter the café until they noticed them.

She had long flowing blonde hair, piercing (and currently very angry) blue eyes, and a slight, delicate, yet somehow very tough build. It was much like Jan's, but likely more suitable to street fighting. She was raising her voice, but Clint seemed to be, amazingly, retaining his cool. He suddenly realized they were standing outside the window and motioned for them to come in.

They did so, and stopped to stand around the booth, a bell jingling as they opened the door.

"Valerie, these are my _friends,_" Clint said smugly, motioning to each of them in turn, "Jan van Dyn, Hank Pym, Steve Rogers, and _Tony Stark._"

"Yeah, nice to meet you all," she said, a German accent evident, waving her hand dismissively in their general direction.

"Valeria, try to be nice to them, at least- you're mad at me, not my friends," Clint pouted sarcastically. Her hand seemed to spasm, momentarily forming a fist.

"I'm leaving," she stated, turning on her heel to leave.

"Wait!" Clint jumped up, grabbing her wrist. She looked back at him, her face full of strong distaste. "I was thinking, maybe, I could buy you some breakfast and give you a ride back to your place. HHow does that sound?" Valeria looked back at him, calculating something silently.

She turned back around slowly, as if to sit down, at which Clint relaxed, but then her fist was coming too, and it collided with Clint's cheek and knocked him straight to the ground.

"Okay, you can buy me breakfast, now, " she said cheerfully, taking a seat in the booth.

The rest of the Avengers blinked, eyes darting back and forth between her and Clint, who was groaning and clutching his nose.

"Are you okay, Clint?"

"Yeah…" he sat up, "Just a little broken nose."

"Do you want to sit next to Valerie?"

"Uh, nah. I'll just sit across from her."

Valeria scooted all the way over to the window, still grinning widely. Steve look at her wearily, then sat next to her, with Tony on his other side. Clint scooted in across from Valeria, still cluthing his nose. Jan and Hank took the spots next to him.

"So, how do you two know each other?" Tony asked, eyeing the pretty lady on the other side of Steve.

"Ex-girlfriend."

"His brothah and my sistah are 'togethah'. Sadly."

"Psh, sister? She's your effing _cousin_, Val."

"Don't call me Val, bitch," she snapped. He shrugged.

"Whoa, okay, no cussing in front of Captain America. Don't want you to influence his impressionable mind with that 'garbage'," Tony interjected. Steve gave him a look.

"So, something happened between you two, I guess?" Jan yawned. A waitress came by and handed them menus, letting an awkward silence fall among the group. Clint's nose stopped bleeding. They stared at their menus silently.

"So vhy are you all down here in zuh first place?" Valerie asked Clint, no longer as angry as before.

"I have to talk to Barney. I didn't even know he and Rachel had kids till yesterday."

"Yeah, because Rachel didn't vant zu have you come und visit," she stated matter-of-factly, if not extremely rudely. The waitress came back and took their drink orders- three coffees, one mint mocha latte with extra whip and sprinkles, one chai, and one extra tall mocha latte with five shots, whip, cocoa powder, non-fat milk, one caramel shot and three shot of Hershey's chocolate.

They stared incredulously as Valerie listed off the specifications.

A TV suddenly blared from the corner of the quaint café. The lady behind the cash register had turned it up, and the workers gathered around and watched.

It seemed that a giant robot was attacking New York City.

The five superheroes at the booth tensed. It appeared that Thor and Hulk were at the scene. Lightening crackled dramatically across the screen. Tony pulled his card out of his pocket quickly.

"Panther, what's going on? We're seeing Thor and Hulk on the news- it doesn't look too good," he said into the card, sounding much more casual than his expression looked.

"Yes, Iron Man. I am overriding the robot's system as we speak. I'd love to speak with you more, but it seems my attention is needed elsewhere. I will update you later," and it crackled to silence.

In a matter of seconds, the giant robot on screen fell to its' knees and crashed. Thor, Hulk, and Black Panther were shown standing over it.

"Looks like a giant Doombot," Tony commented, and Hank and Clint nodded in agreement.

The waitress brought them their drinks.

The awkward silence returned.

"So you hawve never met zheir kids?" Valerie asked.

"No," Clint shrugged, adding more creamer to his coffee and offering some to Hank and Steve.

"Let me tell you- zuh kids are spawns of Satan."

"Why do you say that?" Jan asked.

"Because it's true. Zuh oldest- Damien- loves to start bon fires. Zuh second oldest- Jolie- has a tendency to burn buildings. Zuh second youngest- Tina- always cuts the heads off her younger sister's Barbies. Lissa ist… innocent until proven guilty, alzhough I doubt zhis supposed 'innocence' of hers. Bernard and Rachel claim zhat she ist zuh 'Angel of zuh Family'," Valerie rolled her eyes.

A tall man in a nice suit and combed ginger hair with a fedora on top entered the café as she finished.

"Hello, how can I help you today, sir?" the lady asked.

"Table for four, please," he said curtly, tipping his hat respectfully.

She smiled and put her hand on her hip, asking, "Now, where you from, son?"

"Currently, my residence is in Seattle, but that changes all the time, ma'am. Originally, I'm from up in Mississippi." He answered politely.

"Now, what's a Seattle gent like you doin' down here in a place like this?" she asked, laughing softly.

"My brother works for an insurance agency down here, and an old friend of mine throws the best Mardi Gras parties I've ever known. And everyone knows you all here got the best French Toast around," he finished with a wink.

"Well, thank you. And let me guess, you're 'old friend' is none other than one Barney Barton, out at the Schneider Farm?"

"Well, yes ma'am. The guy seems to become a local celebrity wherever he sits for a while, huh?" he chuckled.

Valerie sat up straighter, and called, "Hey, you Dusty, aren't you?"

The man looked up at her, taking in the group at the booth. "Why yes I am. You're Valerie, Rachel's sister?" he stood at the end of their table, the woman waiting patiently to give him a table.

"Yes I am. I don't think we've formally met, so here," she reached her hand over Steve and Tony. He took it and shook if firmly. He looked over the rest of them casually, until his eyes caught on Clint.

"Is this…" he looked at Valerie, "Are you… Clint?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Man, I haven't seen you in forever! It's Dusty, ya know? Dusty Hardin? With Andy and Woody?" he tried to jog Clint's memory. And it clicked.

"No way. It can't be. Weren't you the chubby one? It just can't be,"

"Well, yeah. I got married since then. Got a little one on the way, man. A lot of things have changed."

"Damn." As he said this, a short black woman walked in, a baby bump evident, along with two other men about the same height as Dusty.

"Andy, Woody, it's Clint," Dusty informed the two others. They smiled and waved enthusiastically, and Dusty turned back to Clint. "You going to the party?"

"Yeah, planning on it."

"We'll have to catch up then, the four of us. Right now, I gotta get the lady her food," he winked, "Till then, sunshine," he linked arms with the woman, and the four newcomers were led to their seats, on the other side of the café.

The waitress came back and took their orders.

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><p>About forty five minutes later, the six of them piled into the SUV again, this time with Valerie in the passenger seat.<p>

Presently, they were in the middle of miles and miles of fields, speeding along a back country road. In the distance, if they listened, they could hear music pumping through the open space.

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><p>AN: mk, sorry for such a long wait, i was busy. I swear I was busy!

I was also having a bit of 'inspiration insufficiency'.

Anyhow. I hope you guys enjoyed this.

I don't really have anything else to say

So please review!

~RandomFanatic


	8. Shindig

**It has taken me forever to get this thing up here. o.O **

**Well... I like this chapter... I love my OC Rachel. She's pretty awesome. In my opinion. ;) **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>They got to the farm around noon. The Avengers had to sit through a half hour drive of Clint and Valerie bickering, but they did arrive at the farm, eventually.<p>

To Tony, it looked like any stereotypical southern 'shindig' he'd ever seen on TV. There was a red barn, covered in green, purple, and gold streamers. There was a little country house about thirty feet to the left of it. There were lights strung up everywhere possible.

A couple of kids- well, a lot of kids- were running around, playing.

Parents watched coolly and drank from their bottled beverages.

Music pumped from the barn. Cars were pulled up onto the tall grass surrounding the barn and house, parked in a sloppy circle around it. Masks were everywhere, but not so much the crazy elaborate costumes Tony was expecting. He guessed that was more towards Bourbon Street.

Before they got out of the car, Wasp handed them all masks that suspiciously looked like their costumes. Steve got a red white and blue full-face mask, Tony got a red and gold half-mask, Hank got a red and black eye-mask with antennae, Jan made herself a black and yellow half-mask, and Clint got a feathered purple eye-mask. Valerie rolled her eyes.

Clint eyed his mask before putting it on.

"Okay, no one talks to my brother besides me. Valerie, you don't tell him I'm here," Clint stated, looking at Valerie sternly. She rolled her eyes. "We'll go separately, but I want to leave at least by five. Meet here then, unless something else happens, in which case we'll leave early." The team nodded, exiting the vehicle.

Clint surveyed his surroundings before going forth. A lot of the other vehicles were old rundown trucks, rusted and discolored in places. He made his way toward the barn, where most of the commotion seemed to be going on.

Inside there was a dance floor and a bar, and the place was covered with multi-colored lights and people. A lot of them wore masks, but the ones who didn't did not stick out too much. He looked for people recognized besides the Avengers. It looked like Tony had also made his way to the barn, and was weaving his way through the crowd and to the bar. Jan and Wasp were already have some heated conversation by the door.

Clint rolled his eyes. These guys are impossible.

He made his way to the dance floor. Not to dance, mind you, but to look. He recognized the dances they were doing, but he also recognized that he never wanted to do them ever again. Whether or not the Avengers were around.

He didn't notice Valerie making her way through the crowd. She found a group of women who were standing around drinking, mostly comprised of late twenty to thirty year old. One of them, a blond woman with the waist of a Barbie doll, smiled at her and leaned in to hear Valerie whisper something to her, smiling and swirling her beer bottle around mindlessly. When Valerie was finished whispering, she pointed to Clint, and the other woman glared. She said something to Valerie, and then started to make her way towards Clint.

The music and the commotion all around him drowned out most of his senses. The floor thumped to the beat of the music under his feet. A roar of laughter exploded from the bar. Tony Stark, that charming bastard.

The woman approached him, Clint still unaware. People she passed recognized that something was going on, and turned to watch her.

Her fist came in contact with Clint's cheek bone, knocking him back and giving him a sense of whiplash.

Two times in one day. He looked up at his attacker, and took a step or two back. "Rachel," he bowed his head, glaring at her and wincing at the bruise quickly forming just below his eye.

"Vut zuh hell are you doing here, Clint?" she asked angrily. There was a ring formed around them as people watched. He could see Steve and Hank, both standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He flicked his hand at them, telling them to stay out of this. Steve nodded, if reluctantly.

"Well, let me tell you, I'm not here to see you." She punched him again, harder, and (like her sister) knocked him down to the ground. He braced himself carefully as he hit the ground, holding himself up with one arm as he wiped blood from his lip with the other. He kept his head down. He knew Rachel, and he knew she'd just keep throwing punches till he didn't get up.

Clint could hear someone trying to make his way through crowd. He looked to the side and watched as the man approached. A man he knew. Red brown hair, high cheek bones, pissed off aquamarine eyes. Barney.

"Hey, hey, babe. Cool off! You know the rules, honey. No fighting inside!" he said, jumping into the clearing and berating his wife, the only sound in the new silence that had fallen over the crowd.

Clint was shocked to see him. Instead of the leather jacket or the slicked back, greasy hair he'd had when he'd broken out, Barney looked… young?

He was wearing a white tank top and blue skinny jeans. His hair was tousled like he just got out of bed, and a loose smile on his face.

"Who decided zat it vas a good idea to invite your bruhzer?" Rachel demanded, turning on him. He stepped back when he realized how pissed she was. And then he was confused.

"Brother? Huh?" he looked at Clint, and it clicked. "What the hell?"

Clint spit blood onto the ground and made eye contact with Barney, who was holding his hand out to him to help him up. He took it and let himself be pulled to a standing position. He subconsciously noted the offensive stance that Rachel took as he did so, and how Steve moved closer in response.

Barney looked between Rachel and Clint. And grinned, "Family reunion?" he said jokingly, spreading his arms as if to suggest a group hug. Rachel and Clint looked at each other.

Clint opened his mouth as if to say something, but was cut off by an sudden booming sound from outside. Rachel glared at the ceiling, and then at Barney, and said, "Eet's still your shift."

Barney huffed theatrically and closed his eyes. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine," and he turned at strode out of the barn quickly. No one spoke beyond little whispers. Clint thought he heard someone whisper something like, "It's probably their demon kids blowing up another water trough." Well, that's a curious thought.

The door slid back open and two kids- a twelve-year-old boy and a ten-year-old girl - were pushed inside, followed by Barney. The kids' faces were covered in ash and their hair was both blown back and caked in ash. They looked like mad scientists. They probably were, too.

"Let us talk outside," Rachel announced, shooing the three out again. She paused and looked back at Clint, "You too. Come." Clint hesitated, but did as she said.

When he joined them, Rachel was scolding the kids for melting their younger sister's doll in hot oil as they smiled and giggled about it. Impressive, given their age, Clint thought. Barney was trying not to laugh along with the kids.

"Damien Barton Schneider, zis is not funny!"

"I regret nothing," the boy returned boldly between giggles. She smacked him on the head.

"Vhatever. I vill talk vith you later, young man," she shooed the two of them along. "As for you," she turned to Clint, who cringed away from her instinctively…

"Hey, it's your shift to watch 'em," Barney shrugged toward where the kids had run off to, "I'll talk to Clint." He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

By this time, the rest of Clint's possy had made their way outside. Rachel returned to the barn.

"So," Barney said, awkwardly looking around. "Wanna beer?" he asked, smirking up at Clint.

"Sure."

"Ya'll come on," he nodded to the house and turned toward it.

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><p><strong>... Thanks for reading! Please review! <strong>


	9. Talk'

**So, it's taken me FOREVER and a HALF to update this. I apologize. I also apologize that it's been so boring lately, but that's just 'rising action' as my teacher would call it. It has to make a peak sometime. It'll happen soon, I swear. ^^ **

**Also, I love reviews.**

**You guys are so awesome. **

**So you should definitely...**

**enjoy.**

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><p>The house had a back porch, which Bernard led them to, and pulled open the sliding door. Inside there was a kitchen with a large wooden round table. Bernard motioned for them all to sit down.<p>

He took the seat nearest to the fridge, and popped it open, searching for something inside of it. He withdrew a can of beer from it.

"Bernard, this is Tony, Steve, Jan, and Hank," Clint pointed to each in turn, "Guys, this is my brother Bernard."

"Nice to meet you all." He waved his hand warmly and smiled at them, then turned to Clint, looking him up and down. "Man, it's been a long time, huh? Last time Ah saw you, you was, whut, a foot shorter than me?" he laughed and continued, "And you was scrawny. Your face is still a bit thin," he patted Clint's cheek, which caused Clint to glare playfully at him, "but Ah guess that's what's to be expected. What did those SHIELD guys feed you, anyhow? Miracle grow? Haha, just stick ya in the garden next tuh the tomatoes, water ya, make sure ya get plenty of sun…" he trailed off, a grin plastered onto his face.

"Ah, shut up, man. Look at _you_! You're skinnier? Your hair's shorter- that's for sure, ya little hippie!" Clint laughed.

Bernard quickly changed the subject. "Y'all want somethin' to drink?" he asked, nodding toward the fridge.

"What do you have?"

"Eh, soda, juice…" he looked around, smiling as if expecting them to take him up for some. Thor and Tony looked at him disbelievingly and Clint rolled his eyes. He grinned, "Alright, Ah guess y'all're big boys now. We got some German beer, American beer, and Bourbon." he said. "Do Ah need tuh check ya'll's ID's, or can Ah just trust ya'll?" he added jokingly.

"Shut up, Barney. Gimme some Bourbon," Clint stated, presenting his palm to his brother. Barney cocked an eyebrow at him and put his hands on his hips.

"Don't give me no sass, son. How old are you again?" but he grabbed a glass and a brown bottle from a cupboard and poured him some. Tony waved his hand to ask for some, too, and Bernard eyed him, then poured another glass.

Jan passed, and so did Hank, and Thor asked what the difference bewee. Bernard explained to him how Americans tended to like theirs really cold, while Germans served theirs room temperature, so Thor took some German beer.

"This'll sure knock ya off ya seat, let me tell ya," Bernard told him, smirking.

"You don't know who this is, do you, Barney? This is Thor, the Golden Boy of Asgard," Clint said, patting Thor on the shoulder as he downed the drink.

"Sounds like a cult," Barney said dismissively, pulling out a can of Budweiser from the fridge. Clint rolled his eyes.

"So, how does one who works in New York come to live in New Orleans?" Tony asked, sipping his Bourbon.

"Why wouldn't I live in New Orleans? New York is friggin' cold." He popped the can open and drank from it.

"During the winter," Tony corrected him.

"Whateva'. Too many people- wannabe gangster kids, starving artists, _snobby rich people_," Bernard dismissed him pointedly.

Tony glared. "Says the 'notorious racketeer'. I'm sure, if you looked, you could find a buncha groups of idiots here in New Orleans who are wannabes, just like up in New York."

"Yeah, I could. But the thing is, there ain't no one tuh 'pillage' down here. Just simple farm folk. They ain't good income, ya know," Barney said conversationally, "And in the city, we still be rebuildin' since the hurricane. No good pickings there, either," he added, smirking at Clint's horrified expression.

"I can see that," Tony nodded.

"So… since when have you had kids?" Clint asked. It had been bothering him since he'd found out about the kids, and he had to ask. He was planning on smoothly working his way to this point in the conversation, but he couldn't wait that long.

"Well, Damien's twelve, I'm… how old am I? I always forget. I think I'm twenty nine… So twenty nine minus twelve is…" he calculated it, looking up at the ceiling, "Since I was seventeen. You're like, two years younger than me? So that would make you fifteen. Since you were fifteen."

Clint looked at him, the words slowly sinking in, in sync with his face falling into complete shock.

"What?" he took another sip of beer.

"Why didn't you know about this, if you were fifteen and Barney was seventeen? You two were both still at home, right?" Hank asked. Bernard burst out laughing, but when no one else joined, he stopped.

"You seriously don't trust _anyone_, do you?" he cocked his head.

"What do you mean?"

"You prob'ly haven't told 'em _anything_ 'bout yourself, huh?"

"They know I was a SHIELD agent. They know my partner was Widow. What else do they need to know?"

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Well, how 'bout Ma 'nd Pa? They obviously didn't know 'bout Rachel or Valerie. I doubt they knew 'bout me 'either, till it came of importance. Or the circus? Orphanage? _Running away?"_

"Which time?" Clint smirked.

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Either."

"Be specific," Clint pressed, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Clint," Bernard sounded tired, now, and there was an edge to his voice.

"Bernard," returned sharply, not missing a beat.

The two sat glaring at each other.

"Okay, settle down fellas," Steve said, putting his hands up.

"I'm rather curious as to where this is going, actually," Tony said, bemusedly looking between the brothers. Steve shot him a look, "Fine, fine. Ruin my fun."

"Ah think that you should tell 'em now." Bernard shot a patronizing look over to Clint.

"Why?"

"Because if you don't say anything now, you're not going to. Ah know you Clint."

"That's freaky accurate, actually. Kudos."

"Yeah, whatever."

"I choose not to 'tell'. I'm not the 'telling' type." Clint crossed his arms firmly.

"Fine. Ah will."

"You wouldn't."

"But Ah am. When Clint was-" Bernard started, but was interrupted when Clint jumped across the table, his hand going to Bernard's mouth, knocking Bernard's chair backwards with Clint on top of him.

"Clint!" Steve stood up. He pulled the younger brother off the other and sat him back in his chair.

"Alright, next subject maybe? We can all talk about Clint's childhood issues later. You had said you would 'talk to Clint'. Or does that mean something else, here?" Hank interjected.

"Ah, yeah. Uh, listen, Ah'm glad to see you, and it's nice that you brought all your little friends along too, but you really shouldn't have come down here," Bernard said, rubbing his arm where it had connected hard with the floor.

"What? What does that mean?" Clint glared.

"Don't look at me like that. Anyway, you know what Ah do for a living now. Ah run rackets. Ah'm a criminal. And with being a criminal and running rackets, you get competition. Cut throat competition. Down here, Ah go by 'Bernard Schneider'. Up in New York, my name's still Barton. I've made plenty of enemies the last couple years."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Bernard rolled his eyes, "Bernard _Barton_. Clint _Barton. _Hawkeye. SHIELD. As many people know, SHIELD's database ain't exactly _secure. _It gets leaked _all the time. _A rival racket could easily hack 'em, and find ya name. Find out that you're Hawkeye. Rachel always worries about rivals connecting 'Barton' and 'Schneider' an' coming here. That, and the fact that she really don't like you, is probably why she came at ya like that."

"Oh, come on. She probably wasn't even thinking about that. She hates me! And you never believed me about that, either!" Clint crossed his arms and glared at his brother like a little kid.

"Well, sorry. Ah apologize."

"Not accepted."

"Grow up."

And the slider door slid open at that moment, and Rachel came in. Mud was dried on her face, and she looked extremely irritated. Clint unconsciously winced at the expression.

"Your turn," she said through gritted teeth, kicking off her shoes and heading somewhere else in the house, presumably a shower.

Bernard sighed with his whole body dramatically. "Fine," he answered Rachel, despite her absence.

He picked himself up and motioned for the rest of them to follow. He went out the door, jumping over the stairs and landing on the ground gracefully.

There was a group of boys standing in a circle between the barn and house, juggling a soccer ball with their heads and legs between them.

"Yo! Damien! Where're your sisters?" Bernard called to the group. The blonde head of the trouble making boy from earlier popped up, nearly catching a ball to the face as his friend passed it to him.

"Uh, I thought they were in the barn. Why?"

"What happened to your ma?" they neared the group now, and the boys continued kicking the ball, bouncing it off their ankles, heads, knees, stomach, chests, and everything else they could.

"Uh, Ah don't know, Pa," he said, half concentrating on talking, half concentrating on the ball he received and keeping it in the air. He smacked it with his ankle and sent it to the boy next to him.

"Yo! Schneider!" A voice called from the front of the barn. Clint was standing next to Bernard now, the rest of them standing awkwardly behind the two.

"Dusty! Howya doin', man?" he grabbed Dusty's hand and bumped chests with him. "Hey, you seen my girls around here?"

"Oh, I think they were running around in the upper parts of the barn, last time I checked."

And, as if on cue, a big BOOM was emitted from the barn.

"Shoot." And he ran into the barn, Clint and Dusty on his heels.

The music was quieted and the people had formed a circle around a crying little girl who was sitting on the ground in the middle of the dance floor.

"Christina May, what are you doing?" Bernard asked, taking her in his arms.

"They pushed me!" she cried, pointing up at the second level of the barn, which was made up of cat walks and railings.

"Jolie, get down here. Let's go play a game."

A staircase was lowered from the ceiling to the left, and two girls- one from earlier and one much younger than the other two appeared.

"What kinda game?" the older one asked happily.

"Soccer."

"But I don't like soccer!"

"How about you and your sisters and Damien and his friends versus me?"

She instantly brightened, an evil smile coming over her face.

"Well, no. I'm not taking on all you little kids. Clint? You wanna play on my team?" he said, looking over to Clint.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Aw, c'mon. We used to love playing soccer!"

"No, _you_ used to love playing soccer."

"Not true. I _still_ love to play soccer. Your argument is invalid." Bernard crossed his arms and sniffed indignantly.

And suddenly, Clint found himself standing in the middle of a mowed square of grass, a makeshift goal in front of him, and a bunch of kids surrounding him, staring at him menacingly, competitive little smirks adorning all of their faces. A whistle blew, and he quickly moved to kick the ball. It flew through the air, towards the goal.

Why was he here again?

Damien was there, then, head-butting the ball. It smacked the ground and bounced back up, and Barney was running at Damien. He pushed the kid out of the way roughly, a huge grin on both of their faces. Clint rolled his eyes and ran to catch up with his brother. He could feel the rest of the Avengers watching him, and he tried not to slip up. He wasn't used to wearing shin guards or cleats. He didn't know why they had extra ones his size. It was kind of creepy.

He smiled as Bernard plowed through the kids- he was always really aggressive when it came to competitions of any sort. He shot, and it looked really good, but then the goalie jumped in front of it, and it connected with the kid's stomach. It knocked the air out of him, but the kid had successfully blocked the ball. Clint turned to run back to his position, but found himself falling to the ground instead.

It was an instinct, falling to the ground, when he heard gunfire. It shredded through the air, and he vaguely registered that Bernard was yelling.


	10. That Time We Almost Died

**Finally got this updated! **

**Feels like it's been forever! (it kind of has been...)**

**BTW, you guys are awesome. I was surprised- i got a couple reviews for this in the last couple days! They're also awesome! **

**It took me a while to write this... and I apologize. :/ **

**Well, please read and review! 3**

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><p>The smell of fear <strong>and<strong> dirt and heat filled his senses.

"Take cover!" Bernard yelled, and there screaming people and screaming kids and Clint couldn't focus enough to figure out what was going on. He was disoriented and he could barely register that it was a .50 caliber machine gun. Portable.

Well, someone's having fun.

"Clint! Come on!" Bernard yelled. Clint looked up and around him.

There was a kid about ten feet from him, clutching the side of his face. Clint could smell the blood.

"Come on, kid…" he called to the boy quietly. The kid looked up at him and Clint vaguely registered the boy's dirty blond dread lock and light black skin, still rather more concerned with the trail of blood streaming from his hairline. "Come on! You gotta-" the shooting seemed to be aimed closer to the two of them, out in the open on the flat, flat ground of the makeshift soccer field.

"Dominic!" he heard another one of the boys call, seemingly terrified, from the side of the barn.

A band of gunfire shot dirt up in miniature cartoon dirt geysers three feet to the left of Clint. He looked over his shoulder to the side of the barn, where Barney and boys who'd been playing soccer moments before were taking shelter from the shooting.

The kid tucked his head down and started blindly crawling to them. Clint didn't even attempt to look back at Barney and the others until the boy was between Clint and the barn. He kept himself as close to the ground as possible while still being able to maneuver.

Another string of gunfire came real close to Clint, and he felt the heat of friction hit him, the bullets landing inches from his right arms. He swallowed and continued, inching his way to safety.

An arm closed roughly around his shoulders, pulling him in and pressing him against the barn wall, and like that, it was gone again. Barney was inching his way to the end of the wall, peering cautiously around the edge. He stepped back quickly, and a streak of bullets shot by.

"What's going on?" Clint asked urgently.

"Dis is why ya shouldn't've come," Barney said pointedly, but hastily changing the subject when he looked at the boy named Dominic. "Did you get hit, boy?"

"No-no sir. I don't know what happened, it was all so fast…" The group of boys who had been huddled against the wall now tried to look at him, some taken aback by the gore that streamed down the side of his face. Others, like Damien, just frowned and tried to help.

"Damien, take duh boys intuh duh barn duh back way," Bernard ordered his son, "And make sure dis boy gets some… something tuh stop that bleedin'." Damien nodded dutifully, and motioned for the others to follow him to the back of the barn.

"Where're the Avengers?" Clint asked as Bernard tried to sneak a peek around the corner again.

"How should Ah know?" Bernard asked, not even looking at him. Another streak of bullets shot past him, narrowly missing.

"Because…"

"Shhh. Ah need tuh think." He turned back and looked at Clint blindly, trying to compute what exactly was happening and how to react.

"Barney, I can help, just-"

"No. Be quiet." Bernard went to a tarp that was lay crumpled at the ground by the barn wall. He pulled it back, revealing a plethora of guns. How had no one found these earlier? Why had Clint not even noticed the tarp? He filed these questions away to be answered later.

He moved to pick up one of the guns, to have his hand smacked away by Barney. "What's all this?"

"Ya t'ink Ah didn't have a stash? Needed tuh be easy to get to, just in case."

"In case something like this happened?" Clint asked doubtfully.

"Exactly. You're startin' tuh catch on."

He picked up one of the guns, a .5mm, and motioned for Clint to follow him. He went around the back of the barn, past a hole that went under the barn wall that Clint assumed was the 'back way', and stopped just before rounding the corner to the other side of the barn. Clint only just registered the click of the gun as Bernard loaded it before he jumped out from their hiding place and started shooting.

Three gunshots, three windows breaking, and then a ringing silence.

Clint let out a breath that he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. He came around the corner and found Bernard, still holding the gun aimed at the black sedan. Broken glass was scattered all over the ground. The scene was slashed with blood, and through one of the smashed tinted windows Clint could see the slumped form of a nondescript man.

"What-?" Clint started, furious that Bernard had just gone and shot these men without barely thinking it through.

But Barney ignored him, walking over to the barn door and pulling it open slightly. "Is everyone alright?" he called into darkened depths of the barn—when did the lights go off?—and someone murmured something like, 'yeah… yeah.' Sounded like Rachel.

A bright overhead light was turned on and Clint could see everyone now. Valerie was in the corner sewing up the one boy's head. He vaguely remembers Valerie doing the same for him on a couple occasions when a circus act turned ugly.

And that was the last thing he registered before Barney grabbed him by the wrist and set him roughly inside the barn, nodded to Dusty and his brothers (who were conveniently at hand). Dusty grabbed a leather jacket—Clint recognized it as Barney's from the prison—and the four went back outside, sliding the door almost shut. Clint slides to the door to watch what they four of them are up to.

How old did Barney think he was? Five? Clint can help! Hell, this is the kind of stuff he does for a living! Unfortunately, Clint didn't have a gun or his bow and arrow to help, and Barney would refuse to lend him a gun. Clint had to sit and wait until he had an opportunity to run to the SUV and grab his gear before he could help.

Barney looks up the driveway, obviously looking for any signs of more_ friends_. He nods Dusty toward the one side of the barn he and Clint had been hiding around moments before. Dusty went without asking, returning a moment later with several guns in tow under his arm—he handed one to Woody and Andy, and kept one for himself.

Clint heard some motion behind him, and looked to find the rest of the Avengers. Steve and Hank nodded at him, Tony was too busy trying to see what was going on, and Jan was talking quietly to one of the girls—the one they'd seen earlier with Damien with the ash on her face. Her face was cleaned now, but her hair was still blackened.

Barney then pointed out to the drive and nodded for Woody and Andy to go scout for backup, it seemed. The two went. Dusty and Barney were half way between the barn door and Clint, and the car with the motionless silhouettes still visible to any onlooker. The sight of them made Clint a little queasy—that his brother put them there—so he tried to avoid looking at them.

He was so enraptured in watching what was going on (which really wasn't much, but he was trying to read their lips) that he didn't even notice when Damien nudged his way toward the door and pushed through it before his mother or anyone else could stop him. The boy ran to the car, faster than Barney or Dusty's reaction time, apparently.

Now, several things happened at once. Barney and Dusty both tried to grab at the boy as he stood behind the stopped car, knocking on the trunk and listening to it curiously. A series of loud bangs went off in the direction of Andy and Woody. Barney looked in said direction and dove in front of Damien, throwing his arms around the boy. A small little something whistled through the air accompanied with another loud bang. A man in a tuxedo appeared in Clint's line of sight (which had expanded when Damien through one of the doors open).

Not necessarily in that order, of course.

A howl of pain escaped Barney and he clutched his left arm and pushed Damien toward Dusty, who quickly ushered both himself and the boy into the safety of the barn.

This all happened within seconds.

He was facing the car trunk, away from the man.

Clint blinked repeatedly, trying to grasp what was going on. Barney was shot. That's not good.

Where are Andy and Woody then?

And who's the menacing looking guy currently pointing a gun at Barney…?

Clint ran a scenario through his head on what would happen if he made a run for the car. The odds didn't seem to be in his favor, since the armed man was between Clint and the SUV.

"Stand up," the man demanded of Barney, stepping a bit closer.

He was maybe five feet away from Bernard and fifteen feet from Clint. Barney, still clutching his arm, stood slowly.

"Look at me." Barney turned to face the man. Barney did a good job of keeping his calm, even when he was faced with the barrel Glock 30. "Remember me?" the man asked, a malicious smile on his face.

"Yeah… Aren't you the valet?" Barney grinned. His accent was gone, too.

The man's hand twitched on his gun and he looked like he wanted to hit Barney upside the head with it.

"You, Barton, shot my wife," the man said slowly, making sure Barney understood. Which really wasn't necessary—Barney's not _stupid_.

"Oh! That was you? Well, that's awkward." Why is he not talking in an accent...?

The man's glare deepened.

"So, what are you going to do about it, again?" Barney continued, unphased.

"I'm going to shoot you."

"You already did."

"I'm going to shoot you dead. In front of your family and friends." He waved the gun in the direction of the barn.

"First time I've ever heard that one." Barney seemed to relax a bit, "Wait, no, I take that back."

"It'll definitely be the last."

"Ooh, watch out. We got a badass over here."

Something churned in Clint's stomach when the safety clicked and the man slid his finger over the trigger. Close range, that's gonna hurt.

Gotta do something.

He turned and looked around—Hank and Jan can just shrink/grow by thinking about it… but Clint needed to do this. It wasn't really their problem.

Damien might know where Barney hid his guns inside the barn… but it seems he's disappeared. He could hear some chatter from Barney, but he could tell time was running out.

His eyes flitted over the barn, along the walls, and found a small cabinet. Have to start looking somewhere, he guessed, and fast.

He made his way over to it and pulled it open quickly. Just farm tools. He rummaged around in it, making sure there was nothing useful.

Someone behind him cleared their throat. He turned and found the little girl—Christina was it?—holding a long narrow case.

"Are you looking for something like this?" He took it from her and unsnapped it. It was a compound bow and several wooden arrows. Perfect. He would stop to ponder why Barney had one of these later. Right now, he's gotta… do something.

He pulled the bow out and set it up quickly, making sure it was correctly 'tuned', as he liked to call it.

He looked up when it was ready—the bad guy was doing the cheesy 'any last words' part of his speech.

Wait.

These are technically just two villains—very, very minor villains—going at it. Clint shouldn't get involved. Barney shot the guy's wife. This is revenge. He shouldn't get involved.

He started to set the bow down.

Ok, never mind, this is Clint's brother, too. Not just some very minor villain.

If this is revenge, then Clint, as an Avenger, would likely have to avenger the murder anyway… Might as well be proactive.

He cocked an arrow and aimed it quickly. He knew by the tension in the man's arm that he was just about to pull the trigger.

A loud bang of a gun made Clint flinch back, but he didn't have enough time to register that before he let the arrow fly.

The arrow made a strange sound, he had to admit. It sounded like it was swooping through the air on the path Clint put it on, along with overhead, like someone shot off another arrow from the second story of the barn. Clint closed his eyes tightly. The gun was fired before he took his shot. He was too late, and he knew it.

But he had to face it, had to see if there was anything he could do (though it was unlikely at that close of range).

And he opened his eyes, one eye at a time. But… Barney wasn't shot. The man was. He was on the ground, two arrows sticking over him, one in the stomach and one in the neck. Clint knew he had been aiming at the stomach.

Two arrows? He really did hear two arrows? He could hear someone shuffling down some steps and Damien reemerged, crossbow in his arms.

Two arrows. Huh.

Damien made his way to the door, "You okay, pa?"

Barney was still looking down at the body in shock, then jerked to look at his son, grin forming. "Yeah, I reckon so. What were you thinking, running out here?" He asked as he made his way toward the barn again, his arm in pain, but Clint didn't see any blood.

"Thought I heard something ticking. I was right, too."

"Bomb?"

"Yup."

"Pity."

He threw the door open completely with his good hand.

"He didn't fire his gun. Where the gunshot come from?"

"Andy? Woody? I don't know. I'm twelve."

Barney laughed, and Rachel helped him out of his jacket. Still no blood, but there was a huge angry bruise where Clint figured he'd been shot.

And Andy appeared in the door way now, helping along Woody, who looked ot have been shot in the leg.

"Valerie! Patch that up, would you?" Rachel hollered to her sister, who was up and in action faster than Clint could say 'major artery'. As Valerie did that, Rachel pulled out something for Barney's bruise.

"Yeah, Ah got it. Thanks." He took it from her, peeled it open and stuck it on his arm quickly, pulling his coat back on.

Then it clicked. Kevlar leather blend. Pretty smart, really. And then Barney was going back out, Andy and Dusty right on his heels.

Wait, wait, wait, what?

Did someone mention a bomb?

Clint snapped out of his trance when he heard the click of Andy's revolver reloading.

Bomb.

A bomb.

Here.

Now.

* * *

><p><strong>Exciting, huh? <strong>

**Until next time (which can be anywhere from 1 day to 1 year, sadly) here are some questions to ponder...**

**1. K, obviously, what's going to happen with the bomb?**

**2. Is Barney Barton really the bad guy he makes himself out to be?  
><strong>

**3. How many more times is Clint going to be punched? **

**4. Seriously, how'd Damien know about the bomb in the trunk? **

**OK, that's all for now!**

**Stay lovely! **


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